


He Will Forget, and Only I Will Remember

by Grondfic



Category: The King Must Die - Renault
Genre: M/M, Uncategorized fandoms - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-17
Updated: 2010-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grondfic/pseuds/Grondfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crete and Naxos from Hippon's pov.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story covers the final chapters of _The King Must Die_, and references _The Bull from the Sea_, from Hippon's pov.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Canon - spoken by Chryse

**Fandom:** _The King Must Die_ by Mary Renault  
**Pairings:** Hippon/Alektryon; Hippon/The Vine King(Dionysos); Hippon/Theseus (in Part 2)  
**Rating:** Moderately hot.  
**Disclaimer:** All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.

* * * *

**Knossos**

He is a man for women; that I know quite well. Just as Crete taught me that I am a man for men.

He is my King, too. That matters; here in Athens in the after-years.

I had mixed feelings – truth be told – about returning to Athens after the fall of the House of the Axe and the death of my high-born friend. I felt I had been spoiled for stable-work. Furthermore, I'd come to view Athens as 'outland' and 'provincial'; its _mores_ inimical to what I had become.

What was I?

A one-time horse-groom. A Crane. A bull-dancer. A lover of rich men and of the finery they could bestow.

A fancy-boy.

My Prince and Team-Leader gifted me with that word. Admittedly he was God-ridden at the time; but in my mind, the title was sealed upon my soul from then for all eternity.

I may have begun to love him already, in Athens; an arrogant young Prince, newly-arrived from the hinterland, the Old King's newly-discovered heir, and all the people's darling. But I was too simple in those days to know my own soul. I merely thought – polishing the harness that day with finest beeswax – that he was clearly used to the habit of command and to the company of horses. And that he was fair to look upon, shining in his happiness.

On that very day (his birth-celebration) the Gods of chance and destiny took us up like dice, and shook us – him and me both – from our allotted places. But since jesting pleases Them, they so arranged matters that he and I became part of a fellowship so close, so tightly-knit, that all members were bound in some way for life. During those short months in Crete (that seemed eternal at the time) we became one single living entity, interdependent and therefore invincible. We were The Cranes; the foremost bull-dancers in the Court.

Of course, it was in Theseus' very nature to subvert both chance and destiny. It was – as Chryse later said – the God within him. It was he who Made The Cranes: took the sum of what we were, kneaded it and shaped it into a Team.

That day at the harbour at Amnisos he began to take his fate – our fate – into his own hands; little though anyone (least of all himself) thought of it at the time. We were all slaves; commodities to the watching Cretans, and less than nothing to the Palace Folk who came to view the wares.

That we remained a Team was down to him; though it appeared at the time that he had needlessly angered our subsequent Patron, Asterion Minotaur.

* * * *

I suppose it is true what the old Dancers (those few who had previously survived the Bull Court) used to say - within its walls you will find your true nature. Certainly I found mine, even before the three months of training was complete.

My Fate took the form of Alektryon, a Cretan noble. Although a warrior in the House Guard, he was also the complete man-of-fashion, beguiling in his little kilts of fringed silk or fine linen, sounding with gold and bedizened with pearl or abalone.

He dazzled and enticed me with his flattery. His wooing – a nice blend of poetry and expensive gifts – intoxicated me! Simple horse-boy that I was, I soon found myself enacting The Big Seduction Scene on his supper couch; his long dark love-locks (redolent of jasmine and sandalwood) enclosing my hot face as he kissed me for the first time; his elegant hands urgent on my most secret parts.

I did not dare mention to The Cranes – and especially not to Theseus who was inclined to mock me – that I could barely sit comfortably for a week thereafter.

Thus I became divided (as if by a downward, bisecting blow of Mother Labrys) in those urgent days. One side of my life, and whatever I regarded as my honour, was inextricably bound with the fate of The Cranes and of Prince Theseus. In the other my body and the urgent stirrings in my groin and lower belly, belonged entirely to Alektryon. It was lucky for me that he understood my desperate dichotomy; and played me kindly within his amethyst-encrusted sphere.

He died very gallantly during the terrible time of Poseidon's Wrath and the overthrow of the House of the Axe.

I owe him gratitude, I suppose, for his light hand upon my reins. I sacrifice yearly to his shade; and still wear his necklace and earrings of gold and funereal jade, that I took from his still-warm corpse during the last battle for the Labyrinth.

We – The Cranes – survived the cataclysm intact (our collective star hitched firmly to the meteor that was Theseus). After the Prince had wrought his personal vengeance upon the Minotaur Asterion, we sailed from Crete, taking with us the Goddess-on-Earth; Ariadne, Theseus' lover.

* * * *

**Naxos**

I am not sure I can to explain how things were for me at that time. I had – after all – been happily engaged with Alektryon and the whole Labyrinth knew it! We had hardly even been worth the breath of palace-gossip any more.

Now death had cut him away from me; and the Avenging God had cut the Bull Court from The Cranes. Father Poseidon, it seemed, had other plans for Theseus.

Fleeing from the chaos that was Crete and the horror that was the once-fairest Isle of Kalliste (God-torn and thrown down into the ocean), we made landfall at Dia and its city of Naxos.

The world knows what happened there – how Ariadne the Thrice-Holy, Goddess-on-Earth was called to the Mystery and remained on Dia to become the beloved of the God. (Some versions, however, have it that she was cruelly abandoned by Theseus, having outworn her use to him).

Of these conflicting tales, I say nothing: they are not mine to tell.

However, my own tale began there, and my life-thread was crossed by Deity on the day the Vine-King was sent back to the God.

It happened this way –

Restless amongst the many youths sleeping in the Great Hall on the eve of the Feast, I woke before sunup and staggered outside to relieve myself.

It was thus that I beheld the departure of the Vine King to the Sacred Islet. He was taken away like a convicted thief by two Priests of the God, who hustled him from the Palace in secretive haste. I thought I caught a glimpse of a regal female at one high window, observing his departure.

He was barely into manhood; small, dark, lithe, and cloaked from head to foot in the Shadow of his Fate. He would die today, in the persona of the God, at the hands of the Maenads, as was customary here. It was whispered that Theseus himself had stood in this same Shadow; but that his Moira had burned so bright within him that it had sheered clean through the ancient custom of Eleusis, and subverted The Mother's worship there forever.

However, this young Vine King was self-evidently not Theseus!

The waves of terror emanated from him as the priests took him, like the sound-beneath-hearing of the sacred gongs. His wandering gaze – doubtless seeing this familiar scene for the last time – caught mine as I lurked in the shadows by the wall.

In his terror, he had the transient beauty of the butterfly; or of the King Horse at the instant it comprehends its fate. Involuntarily, my lips pursed into the semblance of a kiss. His eyes widened; the next instant he was gone.

I can only say that I was Called. This equivocal, unknown God thrummed at my sinews and in all the ways of by body as I crept shorewards to our ship. There I rootled hastily through my things like a thieving hog, until I found the bejewelled costume I had worn to gain access to the girls' quarters on the night of Poseidon's Wrath.

Poor Alektryon! I might have spared him the lies I told in order to wheedle this gaudy Palace-Lady's dress from him. After his death I discovered that he had been one of our conspiracy; and would have procured it for the asking! As it was, I had spun him a tale – half-lie, half seductive truth – about my desire to have him take me in women's clothing. I hope he enjoyed it as much as I did!

By the time I had attired myself in the cinch-waisted skirt (clashing with golden lozenges and plaques of lapis-lazuli), and the tight, open bodice embroidered with a design of irises in gold thread, it was full day. Hastily I used my obsidian mirror to paint my eyes a decent, Cretan length, tint my lips, comb my dark-amber locks into a shining veil over my shoulders, cast a shawl to cover my flat chest.

I would, I decided, do!

* * * *

The Ship of the God had rounded the headland by the time I found the crowd. Furtively I followed a couple of Naxian women as they slipped away through the shallows to the Sacred Isle.

I had no idea of the risk I was running. It was only many years later that I heard the story of Pentheus of Thebes, who wore women's clothing to spy upon the Mysteries of the God, and was torn to shreds by the Maenads.

As it was, I think I was tolerated – but as an Athenian girl. Certainly no one hindered me or barred my progress as I chose a Maenad Mask – the only and only White Mare amongst all the pard and lynx masks.

We were encouraged to drink deep even before the King's Ship rounded the headland. I joined in – ignoring at the time, that hint of bitters in the dregs. Perhaps laurel; perhaps ivy-berries – only the Priests and The Lady knew for sure.

The Ship docked, and the dark Vine King, eyes dilated to the shining obsidian of my mirror, disembarked and entered his chariot. We Maenads clustered close around it as it splashed through the shallows and began its ascent of the Mountain.

It was – as Theseus later described – a Time out of time. I recall only the richness of new wine in my mouth, the scent of pine in the uplands; and – beneath and above all – the insistent beat of the tabor and gong and the high wail of the double-flute.

Then we were running free between forest and rock, with the occasional crunch of snow underfoot. The final halt came when the Priests drawing the King's Car stopped to unyoke themselves, dropping the crosspiece and letting the shaft fall to the ground. They laid themselves flat on the coarse grass, panting to catch their breath.

We Maenads crouched there like hounds at scent. Beyond this place, so they had told me, The Hunt would begin in earnest.

In the breathing silence, The King dismounted a trifle waveringly, and staggered a few paces over the springing grass-tufts.

He stopped, stretched out his arms at shoulder-level, and began to spin on the spot; slowly at first, then faster.

The sky above spun with Him; and we all howled together with the beasts within, without, and around us.

Eventually He slowed and stopped. Now – beyond all doubt – He was King Vine; the God in His Aspect of Sacrifice.

His outstretched right arm, the fingers stiff, pointed straight at me. His veiled eyes followed the line, and in their depths I saw something stir – dark and aroused; baleful and wondrous.

And then the God laughed.

With no sign now of previous stumbling, He stalked towards me, His shoulders shaking with raucous, sacrilegious sound.

"A cuckoo-chick!" He roared in heavily-accented Greek, "A jest that pleases ths God of liminal things! Come, little Athenian Mare, and share with Me this body's final unalloyed pleasures!"

I was here because of Him! It seemed He had called me in the chill dawn. I would as soon have cut off my jewels as deny Him! I rose from where I crouched on the earth, and followed Him.

He led me beyond, into a rocky dell, pine-rimmed, curtained by scented branches and bearded lichen.

On bare rock and grass-tufts, speckled here and there with clumps of red agaric, he lifted the enclosing Mask from my face, tore the concealing shawl to threads, and loosed his supra-natural laughter again, scaring small birds from the branches above.

"This they did not see! A pretty boy in woman's garb! They hoped to send an Athenian wench home bearing the God's Child to be the Dark Nemesis of your upstart leader. But that will never be! For the God of Vine and Mask has two Faces; and you, pretty child, have called forth His Aspect as Brother to Lord Apollo!"

"I … I am a stranger here!" I said, "Knowing only that I am a man for men; and that the Vine King's eyes spoke to me at the break of dawn!"

"Perfect!" He boomed in a voice too loud and deep for his youthful, mortal frame, "An Athenian who seeks the Dionysos of The Lady! When we are done here, you must leave The Hunt and return to your people. The mountain-tops and Catharsis are not for you – yet!"

I blinked, unsure of His meaning; but aware of His hand (the slender, brown hand of an unformed youth) caressing my face with a restrained, feather-light touch.

His eyes were wide, wild and black; with a human terror shuttered tight behind the ecstasy of the God. His swift mouth on my throat, my exposed shoulders and bodice-bracketed chest-buds, trembled at first; and then – when I had shown unequivocally that I trusted Him – suddenly became fanged and stinging.

Either way – softly or cruelly – He drove me mad.

He was naked already, but for His soft buskins, an inadequate fawn-skin on his shoulders and the jewellery that adorned ears, neck and chest – where a pair of tasselled, amethystine grape-cluster clung to his nipples.

"I may damage your festive dress, little lady!" He purred, "But these …" He stroked the jade plaques in my ears carelessly, "… the gifts of a dead lover, I shall leave whole. And you shall take somewhat from Me ere you depart! For this body will also be Dust ere you sail!"

I had known, since I wore the Mask of the White Mare, that I would be ridden. I had not anticipated how hard He would work me. A Dying God's last coupling combines the best and worst of This World's sensations; and also a faint intimation of the unbearable Essence of a God's Perceptions.

They tell now, that His Mother Semele was burned to golden dust-motes when She demanded to experience Her Godly Lover unveiled. All I can say is – I understand; both the demand and the glorious, annihilating outcome!

It is the Way I would wish to go, given the choice.

* * * *

It was past nightfall by the time I returned to the ship. To my utter consternation, I ran straight into Prince Theseus pacing on the shore, his eyes wild and lost.

"Hippon! Get aboard! We must leave immediately!" he barked, moving off across the sand.

In the darkness, my face grew hot as The God's words echoed through me; spoken in the languorous aftermath of love as He clipped the amethyst grape-clusters to my nipples.

&lt;&lt; _"You are in love with him!"_

_"I … he is Team leader! Our lives depend upon our loyalty … "_

_"But above and beyond, Little Mare, you have risked your lives together, Mother-naked but for the tiny loin-guard worn by all Bull Dancers! His golden hair across your eyes that last leap, when you mistimed and fell sideways from the horns! And his voice ….. 'Hippon! Are you alright? Stand firm, little horse, or your blood is for The Mother!'"_ &gt;&gt;

I groaned, and admitted to myself that I had, indeed, loved him from that moment on. Alektryon had been a perfect gentleman and a considerate lover (and – yes – it HAD been love on his part); but my heart had betrayed him to Theseus the Athenian; Prince Theseus of Athens, ever since that day when the bull nearly had me.

Somewhere deep within I had resigned myself to the fact that he would never even recognise my feelings; but now The God's sly comment had stirred me anew.

As the Prince once again called The Cranes in, and hustled us surreptitiously away from the Isle of Dia and the bloody death of The God (away also from Ariadne the Thrice Holy), I knew what I had become.

The God had set me as a willing lure from the lands of The Lady and Her Dying Lord, across the wine-dark seas to Delos, and beyond into the realms of the Sky Gods.


	2. He Will Forget, and Only I Will Remember: 2

**Fandom:** _The King Must Die_ by Mary Renault  
**Pairings:** Hippon/Theseus  
**Rating:** Moderately hot.  
**Disclaimer:** All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.

* * * *

**Delos**

They forget, the Sky-God folk, that Delos is the birthplace not only of Lord Apollo, but also of His Sister, Artemis-Selene. They forget too that Leto, Their Mother, should also be honoured.

So when we made landfall, Prince Theseus made a great deal of commotion with his offerings to Apollo and Father Poseidon; but I slipped away afterwards to the shore, where I had been told there was an ancient Hallow of the Huntress. I felt the need of the Moon-Maiden's help that evening.

_"Take him in surprise – unawares!"_ my liminal God had advised, _"This is your chance; and be sure there will be none other! I will set My glamour upon you this once; for thus the Old Ways might linger in the dark places of his soul. But be content with your Once, Little Mare – for I cannot hold him beyond that!"_

I should have trusted Him alone, and not disturbed the Lady of the Beasts! For surely it was through me that She became aware of Prince Theseus, Who otherwise may never have troubled with him.

So, having besought the Deities, I aimed that night for my heart's desire. I forgot that the Gods have all eternity to hunt in. They may carelessly lay Their snare; and, leaving for other pursuits, trust in Time to spring it.

My solitary oblations completed, I let my feet take me where they would. No one – here on this sacred isle – was likely to accost or assault me, in spite of my minimal bull-dancer's kilt, and lavish finery.

As sunset threw its strange, eerily-coloured clouds across sea and sky, I came (inevitably) upon him on the wide, flat shore. He had found the only shelter from the Eyes of the Sky-Gods; behind a low rock-shelf, hidden from the view of the nearby temples. He was huddled over his knees in the meagre shelter, face hidden in his arms.

He was weeping.

The God, surging through my blood and lymph, guided what my body did; whilst The Huntress whispered in my ears about the best ways to entrap and entrance prey; so that it … he … would join in the ancient dance that unites Gods as well as humans.

So I sat quite near to his holt, keeping silent and breathing softly; but exuding a God-enhanced aura of warmth and comfort.

After a while he raised his golden head so that the Cretan love-locks fell away from his face; and showed me the rawness of his sapphire eyes.

Before he had the chance to draw around him once more the invincible armour of his leadership, the god-given cloak of his royalty, I parted my lips for the purr of the Intoxicating God.

"My Lord? Theseus?"

He hiccupped and, disoriented, blurted out his first thought without let or stay.

"Hippon! What ….?"

"I came upon you, Lord, and stayed to give what comfort a human may offer to the child of The God."

"Pff …." He flapped one hand, "We're comrades, Hippon! In the Bull-Court …" he paused, eyeing me, "You're wearing the bull-dress too! I may still hail you as a fellow Crane; and pretend that I don't have all Athens to face. And forget that …… "

"Yes, Lord?"

"Call me Theseus!" he snapped, flapping his hand again; then picked up the thread, " … and forget that I have just deserted my heart on the Island of Dia at Naxos! She …"

He stopped, shook his head and dropped it once again into his hands, shoulders shaking.

I stepped quietly down to him, knelt before him and cast my arms about him as he cried out to purge his soul of her.

It was full dark before his mourning was complete.

"It's not Minos – though he will require it of me Below," he choked out at last, "But I … I LOVED her, Hippon! I loved her, and she … she … do you KNOW what they do up there on the mountain? Do you know how the Wine King dies, dismembered by his own Queen; and … she – Ariadne - was holding his … his torn-off … I can't say it! She was like life to me, but she embraced Death and Decadence. Oh GODS, what am I to do?"

I trembled suddenly. HE – The God – had not made His fate so starkly manifest to me. I gulped bile, but The God's words came strongly from the bitterness in my throat.

"Embrace your Moira, Son of Poseidon! And know that the Thrice Holy will attain some happiness in her season!"

He looked up, the beginnings of a sad smile trembling at his mouth's corners. He believed me .. believed The God.

"I haven't wept like that since my first King Horse sacrifice. I was five. I'm accustomed now, but even so … it always matters!"

"Forgive me if I encroach on the Mystery, My Lord; but surely, for a sacrifice to be proper, it has to matter?"

He stared at me, his tears still wet, but forgotten, on his cheeks.

"You're right, of course. You see more than I first gave you credit for, Hippon! I'm sorry if ever I made light of you. I'd thought – well, no matter for that! He was a good man – Alektryon. You must miss him!"

"Oh yes, My Lord!" my lips assured him; whilst I realised with some surprise that I hadn't thought of my dead lover for some time. Was I truly so shallow?

"At least there was some honour in his death!" Theseus was saying gloomily.

"The Bull Court is a place apart!" I said softly, "For myself, I recall chiefly that time I missed my aim on the horns, and almost died – but for you, My Lord. And Amyntor, of course."

"Ah – well we were all of us a net for one another! I remember, for example, that you requited me later, when old Herakles turned too briskly, and would have had me on the rebound! You distracted him."

"You remembered that? I'm honoured, My Lord!"

"Theseus!" he reiterated irritably, "Call me by my name; you who are by equal and team-mate. I seem to recall," he added inconsequentially, "that I mistook you for Thebe – but prettier – when first I saw you in her clothes! But …." he hastened on before I could retort, " …. You are far prettier now, in your Bull Dancer's finery!"

"Thank you, My …. Theseus! It's a style that flatters even as it deceives!"

"I am a man for women!" he continued with dogged determination, "But if ever I .. I ……. It would be a man with your suppleness, your equable way with horses and men, your …… "

I seized the bull by the horns, slid my fingers beneath his chin as he lay still within my loose embrace, and pressed my lips softly to his.

Time, and my skittering heartbeat stopped.

Then I felt a tentative response; and the world reassembled around us.

_"Well done!"_ whispered the God.

And _"Well done!"_ echoed The Huntress within the labyrinthine ways of my body;_"Now, surrender to Us, Little Stallion!"_

"Theseus …. Thesss – eussss!" my mouth filled with the hiss of the Sacred Serpent in his name, "The Lady and Her Lord encompass ALL; and within that All, the limitations that govern the fleeting lives of Man are entirely flooded over, and forgotten!"

"Hmm? One needs to know the ways of all men – all people – if one is to rule. To understand a girl now …. I've never ….learned …"

Truly: though the small squeaking part of my soul that was still my own: the Gods have him now, sure and surely!

_"So do you, Little Stallion!"_

"It will be an honour to help!" I replied sincerely.

* * * *

Alektryon had lessoned me well. I had concealed in my loin-guard a small vial of his favourite hyacinth oil – the last pouring of one of his gifts.

Not for a moment had I anticipated that it would be me who would anoint My lord; but so it proved.

The bout of weeping appeared to have loosened all the strings of his lovely body; and he lay quiescent beneath my ministrations, with no sound but the odd appreciative hum when my fingers found The God's Ecstasy within him.

_"Our deities are liminal and barren!"_ instructed Alektryon from beyond Lethe; _"But the reward for our devotion is that tiny, hidden mound that connects us to His being! Seek it, Little Horse, seek it … agh … diligently …. Again!"_

Thus I did with My Lord; and rejoiced in his response.

So soon, so soon, he was ready! I myself had been aching for him since our kiss; but the cruel, shining deities Who rode me, held me in stasis, their soothing voices promising bliss after abstinence.

Artemis it was, within me, Who bade me lie, fully blossomed, upon my back; and thereafter guided me – and him – into a gradual, careful Enclosure.

And so it was not he who lay beneath me; rather he rode me above, guiding (as ever) all movement, until he enticed from me at last that final blossoming. His own tender dew scattered me a heartbeat later.

As we gasped for breath, I was aware that my soul was once again my own. The Gods had departed, Their aim accomplished.

"So THAT is how it is to be a woman!" remarked Theseus complacently.

Even in the blissful aftermath, I perceived that my cruel Gods had misled him. He had conquered and not learned – as always. So – when it came to The Gods' turn – their Conquest would be absolute; and without pity.


End file.
